A Colt for the Kid (3 page)

Belle laughed, a high-pitched, brittle laugh that set Carter’s spine crawling. She stopped laughing suddenly and said:

‘You’ve got yourself a bet, Mister. I’ll take it on the cut of the cards and before witnesses. The judge and the marshal.’

Hot colour mounted in Donovan’s face as he released her. ‘Don’t trust my word, eh? Well, you shall have your witnesses.’ He turned and wrenched open the door. ‘Stone, find that
so-called
judge and have him and Hennesey come in here.’

‘Judge has just come in again,’ Stone said. ‘Reckon he couldn’t keep his nose out of anything for long.’ He bawled across the saloon. ‘Hey, Judge, and you as well, Hennesey, the boss wants you.’

The pair came into the office, Bohun puffing at a cigar to cover his nervousness. Hennesey, cool and collected but apprehensive of more trouble than he would be able to handle. His eyes went first to Donovan’s broad face and saw the red flush that extended from the man’s bull neck to his iron grey hair. Donovan, he decided, was at bursting point but whether it was anger or some other emotion that moved the man, it did not show. Carter was easily assessed if one could think of a dead man as standing upright. Belle, on the other hand, was exuberant, apparently filled with a triumph and finding it hard not to make a great display of it. It took a couple of minutes to explain the gamble and to draw up two documents, one of which would give Belle the ownership of the saloon whilst the other bound her to work for Donovan until he was pleased to release her.

Bohum, now that there seemed no danger to himself, took the cigar from his mouth: ‘A mighty fine gamble, I should say. Yes, sir, one that will go down in history.’

He gave a cackling laugh which Hennesey cut short with: ‘Shut up, Bohun. Belle, are you sure you’re making this gamble of your own free will?’

‘And what if she isn’t? Donovan demanded.

Hennesey’s hand moved a little nearer his gun: ‘I’m asking Belle,’ he said quietly.

‘Don’t worry about me, Ed. Just stand by to see me win the gamble of my life.’

She turned so quickly that her heavy skirts swirled about her and darting to the side table wrenched open a drawer. ‘Here you are, Mr Donovan, a dozen new packs. Pick where you like.’

Donovan moved towards the table. ‘Sure nice new packs. Where shall I pick, from the top or the bottom?’

He took so long in making his choice that the others, with the exception of Carter, crowded round him. He seemed
suddenly to find life in his limbs and with one quick move reached his desk, yanked open a drawer and whipped out a .45 Colt.

Hennesey was the first to turn to the sound and find himself looking at the muzzle of the gun and as the others faced about, Carter spoke thickly.

‘Stand away from Donovan, all of you. I’m going to let the bastard have what he deserves.’

Bohun moved hastily to one side but neither Belle or Hennesey stirred.

Carter waved the gun: ‘Hennesey, you’re in the line of fire.’

‘Stand out of the way,’ Donovan boomed. ‘Whatever’s coming I want a chance to draw.’

Hennesey made a reluctant side step: ‘It’ll be murder if you pull that trigger, Luke.’

‘Is that so? Well, you’re going to be a first class witness.’ Carter’s thumb hooked over the hammer of the weapon, then Belle’s voice came shrilly.

‘Are you going to cheat me of the only decent chance I’ve had in years?’

‘Cheat you, Belle? You know I wouldn’t do that.’

‘Then lower that gun and let me have my chance.’

Carter tossed the gun on the desk: ‘If you want it that way, Belle. I thought perhaps – but never mind.’

Donovan made a sharp intake of breath and ripped the cover from the pack that was in his hand: ‘These will do. Let’s get it over. You can have the first cut if you like, Belle.’

She shook her head: ‘I want no favours. You cut first.’

Donovan lifted nearly half of the pack and showed a queen of hearts. ‘I clean forgot to make a shuffle,’ he said. ‘Shall I do it again?’

Belle smiled. ‘You’ve had your cut, now I’ll take mine.’ She reached firm fingers towards the pack. ‘Don’t go too heavy
for the omen stuff, Donovan. You’re likely to be disappointed like this.’

She lifted a dozen or so cards and displayed the ace of clubs.

Donovan gave her a glare of complete hatred and then burst from the room. Belle stood for a moment, the cards still in her hands, then unexpectedly, as far as the men watching her were concerned, she gave a little sigh and slumped to the floor.

Both Carter and Hennesey ran to raise her to her feet, and as they lifted her on to the settee, Judge Bohun boomed out:

‘By the lord! Belle Clancy throwing a faint. I’ll believe anything after that.’

In a few seconds, Belle stirred, then sat upright, her eyes going immediately to the judge. ‘That paper Donovan signed, it’s legal enough.’

‘They don’t make them any more legal,’ Bohun said. ‘Lord, Belle, I never thought I’d see the day when anyone would get the best of Donovan.’

Hennesey put his hand on the knob of the door. ‘I guess Belle could do with resting up a little. Judge.’

‘Sure, sure. I reckon I can take a hint, Marshal.’

As the door closed behind the pair, Carter reached for the pack of cards that had decided the bet. He shuffled and cut several times and on each occasion turned up an ace. He looked at Belle.

‘Convex aces. So there wasn’t any gamble.’

‘Pour me a drink, Luke. I feel like I’ve been in the middle of a stampede. There was a little gamble but not much. I’ve noticed that Donovan sometimes spreads that big hand of his across the length of the pack when he takes a cut.’

Carter handed her a glass of whiskey. ‘Suppose he’d done it this time and perhaps lifted the ace of spades? Belle, you took a hell of a risk.’

She gulped down her drink. ‘I had to. Ever since the day you lost this place to Donovan I’ve had those packs of cards waiting for him.’ She got to her feet and gave a slightly hysterical laugh. ‘You nearly spoiled the whole thing when you dragged that gun out of the drawer. But I’m glad you had a try, Luke. Yes, I’m darned glad you had a try.’

‘Almost wish I’d succeeded,’ Carter said moodily.

‘What, and have Hennesey hang you for murder?’

‘It would have been that way, Belle, if you’d lost the gamble. I’d have got Donovan some way rather than let him have you.’

Belle gripped his arm tightly. ‘We’ve got the saloon back and that’s all that matters and we’ll go places together like we’ve always done. Now, I’m going to show up in the saloon. Suppose you put those packs of cards into the stove and burn them? Every last one of them.’

Two months with Sam and Lucy put much needed flesh on to Johnnie’s bony frame. He acquired, clumsily at first but with increasing dexterity, some skill in rounding up stray cattle and in the running down and roping of unbranded calves. He worked willingly from sunup to sundown and at the end of the day slept alone in the bunkhouse that had been built to hold a dozen men. He was entirely content with his life and had no yearnings or ambitions. Or at least, it was that way with him for most of the time. There were other times, brief and fleeting, when he thought of Josh Manders and the way he had left him. Then, he had the beginnings of a fear. The fear that this contentment, this period of regular eating, sleeping and working, would be snatched away from him by the arrival of the marshal to arrest him for the killing of Manders. There were times, too, when either Sam or Lucy spoke to him that he wondered if he shouldn’t tell them that they harboured a killer. The feeling came to him mostly when he was talking to Lucy. She, somehow, had the capacity of making it seem to him that her clear, brown eyes looked right into his thoughts.

She had him feeling that way this morning when she said:

‘Johnnie, harness the light rig, will you? Then you can drive me into town. Sam isn’t going this time, he wants to
finish some accounts.’

Johnnie said: ‘Yes, ma’am,’ and was about to move towards the barn when Lucy said:

‘Just a minute, Johnnie. I’ve your pay here, or don’t you want it?’ Her brown eyes smiled at him.

‘Pay! No, I guess I don’t need it, ma’am. I’ve got shirts and jeans and such. Maybe you wouldn’t mind saving it until I get around to needing it?’

‘What! No drink at the end of the month? No tobacco and papers? Johnnie, you do live hard.’

Johnnie grinned. ‘I reckon it’s kinda soft living, ma’am. Besides, I ain’t used to drinking and smoking.’ He paused then went on seriously. ‘Perhaps I ought to learn to smoke, though. Most grown men does it.’

Lucy turned away. ‘You’ll be man enough one day, Johnnie, without either drinking or smoking.’

Puzzled as to her meaning, Johnnie went to the barn, dragged out the light rig and put a pair of horses to it. Still pondering her last remark, he drove towards town without speaking. Three miles of the rutted trail were covered when a little cloud of dust showed a rider coming towards them. Johnnie put the rig over to the right-hand side of the trail to give the approaching rider room to pass, then at a word from Lucy reined the team to a halt.

The rider drew alongside of them and his gaze went enquiringly to Johnnie at the same time as he said:

‘Morning, Lucy. I was on my way to your place.’

‘Morning, Stone. Is it anything I can do or do you have to see Sam—’

‘Not particularly. I’ve got a message for Sam from the boss. I guess you could tell it to your brother when you get back. This the kid I heard you’d hired?’

‘This is Johnnie Callum and he’s hired to us. What’s Mr Donovan’s message?’

‘Just that Sam should come into town tonight to see him. He wants to talk to him some.’

‘Well, Sam’s mighty busy right now. Can’t Mr Donovan ride this way himself?’

Stone grinned. ‘Perhaps I put the message the wrong way. It’s for Sam to come and see Donovan. Kind of an order.’

‘We don’t take orders from Mr Donovan or anyone else,’ Lucy said sharply. ‘You tell him that when you get back. You can also say that he’s welcome to call on us at any time, but if he wants to talk about buying our place, that’s definitely out.’

‘Maybe he’ll take it when he gets around to thinking that way,’ Stone jeered.

‘Maybe he’ll try and if he does I expect you’ll be amongst those gunning for him.’

Stone looked at her for a moment, then a suggestive leer came into his eyes. ‘Depends on yourself. For instance if you were to be sort of nice to me—’

He got that far when Lucy made a quick snatch at the long whip that lay near her feet. She had it raised when Stone made a long reach from the saddle and grabbed her by the arm. The quickness of the two moves found Johnnie temporarily bereft of movement. He had not fully understood the gist of the conversation between Lucy and Stone although he had gathered that there was some kind of difference between them. Also, the mention of Donovan’s name had brought about an emotion that he could not explain. His moment of inaction was short, in fact just long enough for Stone to twist the whip from Lucy’s grasp. Then, Johnnie left the seat of the rig in a spring that carried him clear across Lucy and whirled Stone from his saddle. The pair hit the ground solidly with the foreman underneath. He was partly winded but otherwise unhurt and for the moment, surprised more than angered at being attacked by one he regarded as a kid. Anger came a second later when the kid’s
hands fastened in his hair and thumped his head sickeningly against the ground. In a moment he had kneed Johnnie in the groin and as the hold in his hair broke, twisted himself uppermost and came quickly to his feet. He did not wait for Johnnie to rise but immediately drove a boot at his ribs. Unskilled at fighting, Johnnie took the full force of the kick and only reached out blindly as Stone kicked again. He got a hold on the foreman’s boot, tried to throw the man and when he did not succeed, hung on desperately. He heard Lucy scream something and for some reason lifted his eyes towards Stone’s. The foreman, fighting to hold his balance, was dragging his sixgun from its holster. Johnnie saw death coming to him and moved with the speed of a frightened animal. He let go his hold on Stone’s boot, came up to a crouch and seized the foreman’s gunhand in both his own. He gave a wrench to the wrist that sent the gun whirling. Stone screeched with pain and brought his knee against Johnnie’s chin. Johnnie went sprawling. He should have been unconscious from such a blow, and in fact saw two of the foreman as he staggered to his feet. Head down, eyes almost closed, he rushed at Stone again. This time the foreman dealt a left-handed punch to the jaw that sent him floundering against the horses. He rebounded senselessly and bored in again. Stone, surprised by the quick return to the attack, got the full impact of Johnnie’s blond head somewhere about his chin. He went down flat and an avalanche of arms and legs seemed to fling at him. Next, his head was bounced against the ground, twice in rapid succession. It was more than even a tough foreman could stand, and Stone felt his senses slipping. Johnnie, on the other hand, felt nothing at all. He saw Stone’s face through a red blur and desired nothing but to kill the man. He slammed the foreman’s head downwards a third and fourth time before he felt the hands tugging at his shoulder and the
voice imploring him to stop. Then suddenly the blur vanished and he saw Stone’s face clearly again. The face of an apparently dead man. He got to his feet slowly and became aware that it was Lucy who had been tugging at his shoulder and yelling for him to let up. He looked at her, his mind filled with the conviction that he had killed Stone and now there could be no escaping the law. He expected to see either anger or repugnance in her eyes, but instead they glinted with something very like glee.

‘You don’t have to half kill every man who insults me,’ she said.

‘You mean he ain’t dead? Look at him, he ain’t stirring.’

‘You look at him. Can’t you see the rise and fall of his chest? Get the canteen from the wagon, you’ll soon see how much alive he is. No, wait a minute. Pick his gun up and unload it.’

Johnnie stooped and picked up the weapon. He handled it so badly that Lucy shouted:

‘For land’s sake put it down again. You’ll kill one of us.’

Johnnie dropped the weapon hastily. ‘I ain’t ever—’ he began, but Lucy stopped him.

‘I can see you haven’t. We’ll attend to that as soon as maybe. Meantime, I’ll see to it.’

She picked up the gun and rapidly ejected the shells. ‘There, that’ll give Mr Stone time to cool off if he feels like blasting at you. Now pour some water over him.’

Johnnie removed the stopper from the canteen and allowed water to trickle over the foreman’s face. In a second or two, Stone began to splutter and gasp, then he sat up with a jerk. It was a moment before full comprehension returned, but as soon as it did he placed both hands on the ground with the intention of heaving himself to his feet. He gave the heave and then a howl of pain as his right wrist crumpled under his weight.

Johnnie looked at him in some surprise. ‘Seems like you’ve busted that wrist, Mr Stone.’

Stone got up with difficulty. ‘
I’ve busted it
! Why, you young cub, you did that when you ripped my gun out of my hand.’

He picked up the gun that Lucy had thrown down again, and left-handedly thumbed back the hammer. ‘I’ve half a notion to drill you full of holes, you young snake-in-the grass, but as it is I’ll let you live and run you out of the country. Ever been run out of a place afore? You runs in front of my hoss, see? An’ if you start to lag I quicken you up with a slug as near to your boots as I can manage. Go on, get movin’.’ He waved the six-gun at Johnnie. ‘Go on, before I try a shot at your toes.’

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Stone,’ Lucy said.

‘Oh, and why not?’

‘Because I took the precaution of pulling the shells from your gun and because Johnnie, who handled you when you had two hands and a gun, can certainly manage you now you’re one-handed. I suggest you climb on your horse and go back to your boss. Give him my answer, which is also Sam’s answer, and explain to him how you got your wrist broken.’

Johnnie braced himself to his full height which was close to six feet. ‘There’s your horse, Mister, and you heard what the lady said. Now get riding.’

Stone went towards his mount. ‘I’ll meet you again, you young fool, and next time I’ll cut you down to size.’

Johnnie watched him ride off, then climbed with Lucy to the seat of the rig. He gave an involuntary grunt of pain as he reached for the reins. Lucy glanced at him with some concern.

‘Does it hurt badly, Johnnie?’

‘No, ma’am. At least not more than when Josh Manders used to belt me around.’

‘Josh Manders! Oh, yes, I remember, he was the sheepie
you used to work for. How long were you with him?’

‘About six years, near as I know.’ Johnnie slapped the reins across the horses’ rumps. ‘Giddap, come on. We ain’t got all day.’

Lucy detected a note of rising anger in the words shouted at the team and wondered what hidden, raw spot her question had probed. She said quietly:

‘It sounds as if they were six bad years. Would you like to tell me about them?’

‘No, ma’am. I would not.’ There was such snap and emphasis in the answer that Lucy coloured. For a jogging mile or so she kept silent, but her eyes went continually to Johnnie’s face. The half smile she had become accustomed to seeing had vanished and it was obvious from the heaviness of his expression that Johnnie was deep in troubled thoughts. She tried to think of something to say that would erase the frown, an apology perhaps, but there didn’t seem anything to apologise for, at least, no way of putting it into words. Besides, there was now such a firm set to the jaw and mouth that she realized she had now a grown man to deal with and probably an obstinate one at that. It was Johnnie who broke the silence with:

‘Ma’am, would it make a lot of trouble for you if I quit when we reach town? I mean after I’ve loaded the rig with whatever you need?’

Lucy measured her reply carefully. ‘Johnnie, it’s always inconvenient when a hired man quits suddenly, more so when he’s the only one you’ve got, but there isn’t anything either Sam or I could do to hold you. We wouldn’t try even if there was. We thought you were happy with us although, of course, we do realize that we’re paying you a miserably low wage.’

‘I was happy, ma’am, and I ain’t bothered about wages. It’s just that – heck! You’re bound to find out sometime,
everyone will. Ma’am, that Josh Manders, I killed him.’

Lucy managed to suppress a start of surprise. ‘You’d better tell me the rest. Was Manders knocking you around?’

‘Yeah, that was the way of it, ma’am. Josh came at me with his belt like he’d done before, only that time I’d had enough and I got him like I got that feller Stone. Just bashed his head against the ground until he didn’t move any more. I’d have done that to Stone if you hadn’t stopped me. Ma’am, there must be somethin’ bad in me. Somethin’ that makes me I don’t know what I’m doin’, so I reckoned I’d best quit you in case I do somethin’ else.’

Now that he had begun to talk Johnnie held nothing back, and it needed few questions from Lucy to give her a complete picture of Johnnie’s earlier life. One thing only puzzled her. Although Johnnie had made some reference to Donovan as being the man who had probably been responsible for having his parents hounded off the land, he had made the reference without any sign of resentment. It seemed as if his parents were but a shadow in his past, and that only Josh Manders filled his early life. Manders, she thought, had asked for what he got. But in any case the chances of his body being discovered were remote. Further, carrion birds would have been at work by now, and there would be little left to identify the man in the wild hill country where the fight had taken place. The thing was, to curb Johnnie’s desire to run. She said:

‘Are you afraid to stand trial, Johnnie?’

‘No, ma’am. Least, I don’t think so. Before I came to work for you and Sam I didn’t give a hoot about the thing. Now, well, I guess I was gettin’ to like the life.’

Lucy made a decision. If Johnnie thought he was useful to herself and Sam, he would stay.

‘Johnnie, it sounds to me as if Manders went down in a fair enough fight, and if the matter does come to trial there’s no
one to challenge your word. Sam and I need a fighter on our place. Will you stay?’

Johnnie studied for a moment then said solemnly: ‘Yes, ma’am. Glad to.’

‘And Johnnie—’

‘Yes, ma’am?’

‘For land’s sake stop calling me ma’am. It isn’t right for a man’s who just rescued a girl from insults. The name is Lucy. Understand, Lucy.’

‘Yes, ma’am – er, Lucy.’ Johnnie began to whistle, plaintively and with little melody but with evident enjoyment.